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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27894538">The Secret of Luxury</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lirriel/pseuds/Technicolour'>Technicolour (Lirriel)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Red Hart, Blue Moon [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>ASTRO (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Lying While Smiling, Orlesian Grand Game (Dragon Age), Period-Typical Racism</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:54:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,480</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27894538</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lirriel/pseuds/Technicolour</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eunwoo’s teacher visits him for a pleasant conversation. (It is anything but pleasant.)</p>
<p>Set five years before the events of <i>Red Hart</i>.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Red Hart, Blue Moon [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582003</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Secret of Luxury</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Consider this both a sneak peek of Orlesian high society and a snapshot of Eunwoo’s past. Hopefully it also provides a bit of, uh, insight into his earliest actions in Red Hart.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The city of Montsimmard was awash in a glorious revelry. A wedding was to be held, and rumors had already circulated that the bride’s second lover was set to make a spectacle of the affair as soon as vows had been exchanged. Such events were not uncommon, of course, and had this been the extent of the rumor it would have garnered as much passing interest as the baker’s barbaric beating of his elven servant.</p>
<p>(That he had been forced to beat the knife-ear was not what people found barbaric—it was that he had used his bare fists in broad daylight, without even the thought to dress himself well for the occasion. But he was also a commoner, and the only thing you could count upon when it came to commoners was that they were exceedingly vulgar.)</p>
<p>But what brought the wedding scandal to everyone’s lips was this: the bride’s second lover (not even her first!) was also the sister of the groom, and the siblings had been locked in an ugly battle of inheritance ever since their father had retired from the Game and told them he would pass his estates only to the one who succeeded where he had failed. Considering the bride was a daughter of a Marquis with some influence in Empress Celene’s inner circles, many thought this just another bout in their battle. And, because of the bride’s well-known proclivities, there was some gentle humor that the matter might be settled by who fit most easily between the bride’s legs.</p>
<p>In light of what was sure to be a first-rate spectacle, one that would be mentioned in hushed whispers for nearly a week, the Circle of Montsimmard had been almost emptied of its many mages. The apprentices had not been allowed out, of course, but the enchanters had found themselves called upon to provide entertainment in the after-parties that would undoubtedly spring up, no matter what outcome was reached at the wedding. Now, the gleaming tower stood almost silent: with their teachers gone for the day, the students had all been consigned to self-study, and what full mages remained in the tower likewise turned their minds to more scholarly pursuits.</p>
<p>Cha Eunwoo, of course, was no exception. The Knight Enchanter worked diligently through a book of such horrific density that the Tranquil who had delivered the tome onto him had struggled to carry it. Ser Brindamour’s  <em>The Grandest Game: Understanding The Underbelly of the Orlesian Empire</em> may have once been banned, but Empress Celene had proven herself a patron of the arts and a rigorous defender of education. It was by her hand that Eunwoo had come to possess the book—though he could only attribute his passing acquaintance to the fact that his benefactor in the Circle of Magi had claimed the spot of Empress Celene’s personal court enchanter and thus wielded an influence almost unheard of among mages.</p>
<p><em>The Grandest Game</em> fought him with all the ferocity of a thrice-hunted wyvern: so cunning and twisting were its passages that he took notes as he read. He had already proven himself the equal of his benefactor in matters of magic—he molded spells with ease, pressing each piece of the Fade he touched into something shining and perfect—but she had ever been his better in efforts concerning the Game. Once upon a time she had told him he held too much passion, and even though his magic breathed ice as easily as he breathed air, he could not quite hammer into himself the mindset necessary to excel like she. Even now, he found himself agitated by some of the tales Ser Brindamour’s text recounted.</p>
<p>He was almost relieved when a knock came upon his door. He abandoned the tome with a near-scowl, dripping disdain, and crossed the short distance necessary to open the door that led into his room. Like all enchanters, he was afforded a personal room, but size was dependent upon seniority, and he had yet to accumulate the same number of years his many elders possessed. Thus, he was relegated to the smallest room. He did not find the space especially restricting, mostly because he so rarely saw it, with the many parties he was invited to attend. Even now, a near-dozen invitations sat unopened upon his desk.</p>
<p>But he knew, as soon as he laid eyes upon the person just outside his room, that his visitor would not be so forgiving as he.</p>
<p>His benefactor and mentor stood there. Madame de Ver, the Lady of Iron, First Enchanter of Montsimmard, and Enchanter to the Imperial Court of Orlais—the titles spun through Eunwoo’s head as he regarded her. He raised his mouth in a practiced smile (neither too large nor too small, with no amount of gum and eyes only <em>just</em> crinkled, as if he knew a particularly amusing secret but was too polite to share it) and bowed her through the doorframe. She came willingly, and he closed the door behind her before turning to address her.</p>
<p>“I did not think you would visit, Vivienne.” He kept the smile upon his face as he spoke. He knew she must be about some business, for she would never show her face for something so incidental as a tacky wedding. And certainly her state of dress did not imply she would attend: her outfit was almost restrained, with the sweeping wings of her boots the only great embellishment made. She was, for once, without one of her many great horned headpieces, and the mask she wore was of a deep red instead of the white so favored by those in Empress Celene’s entourage. But the exposed half of her face was unpainted, as always. She had said once before that to paint so dark a skin as hers was to ensure certain mockery. What she had left unsaid was that the white faces that had become so popular in recent years left their wearers looking ghoulish and drawn-out—and Vivienne made it her business to not indulge fashion that would become blighted by history. “I would offer you tea, but I lack the necessary materials.”</p>
<p>“Oh, trust me, darling, I’m well aware of what you lack. I thought I might again offer you residence in Bastien’s summer estate. I recognize you may prefer a quaint little alcove like this,” her mouth lifted, just a hair, and Eunwoo smiled back pleasantly, not rising against the barb she so delicately struck, “but I believe your studies would benefit from a change of scenery.”</p>
<p>
  <em>It would certainly be easier for you to keep tabs on me, ascertain whether I might try to usurp your position.</em>
</p>
<p>Eunwoo loosed his smile wider, injecting humor into the curl of it. “Come now,” he said, “certainly you cannot expect me to <em>learn</em> outside these revered halls.” Allowing himself the smallest brush of self-deprecation, he added, “I am overwhelmed by de Ghislain’s generosity, but I fear I must decline at this time.”</p>
<p>Vivienne exhaled the smallest, fluttering sigh. From upon her hip she unhooked an item that Eunwoo had thought purely ornamental, and snapped it open to reveal the stretched vellum of a folding fan. The print upon it depicted the curling form of a golden lion, and the beast’s mouth seemed to twist open and shut as Vivienne fanned herself a few times with it. Eunwoo noted that the fan hid her mouth, and with her eyes partially obscured by the mask she wore, he was forced to guess at her expressions.</p>
<p>“Bastien and I only thought you might enjoy companionship among like-minded individuals. But I shall not press this matter.” Vivienne’s voice suggested polite interest as she said, “Now tell me—how was  Lord Abernache’s soirée?”</p>
<p>This was her true purpose in coming, Eunwoo surmised. That she had come to him over any of the other attendants further suggested that she sought his discretion—but this was also something like a test. She would judge him on what he told her and on what he told others. He could only imagine that in the Grand Game she already had a dozen paths planned out—and upon each path, she would already be a dozen steps ahead. He may best her in the King’s Game, but the Game of the Empire was entirely hers.</p>
<p>He tried to keep what he had learned from the literature he had been so diligently studying in the forefront of his mind as he responded.</p>
<p>“As always, the lord is simply unsurpassed in the hosting of galas. In addition to the many noble houses in attendance, he also extended invitations to Antivan poets and Rivaini seers. I even saw a member of the Imperial Senate, of all things. Several of the mages from Val Royeaux were present and performed wonderful party tricks for our entertainment.” (Translated: <em>‘He’s seeking out other allies, but it seems a slight against our Circle, not the Empress.’)</em></p>
<p>“Oh, I see,” Vivienne murmured. She fanned herself again, still smiling.</p>
<p>“After a time, the lord asked that I might show my own. I did only a small piece—the ice sculpture I so often made for you when younger.”</p>
<p><em>That</em> had been a showpiece. The mages of the White Spire had done their best to keep pace with the magic he wielded, but he was Madame de Ver’s chosen protégé for a reason. Where they had made flames singe the rosebushes and water dance within the fountains, he had carved into existence a rearing hart, its icy antlers threatening to pierce the sky itself within the garden they had gathered in. He had pressed magic of light and air Into the ice he had crafted it from so that it would thaw only under magical duress. </p>
<p>Now the lord had a centerpiece for his lawn, and he seemed more than willing to continue his relations with Vivienne and the Court of the Empress.</p>
<p>“<em>That</em> I heard about, my darling.” There was a small note of approval in Vivienne’s voice, one that sounded genuine to Eunwoo’s ear. “Lord Abernache was quite ardent in his praise of your efforts.” She lowered her fan to show the smallest quirk set in her top lip, and added, “But his son was somewhat disappointed it could not be a dragon or a wyvern.”</p>
<p>It was a known truth that Lord Abernache’s son held only the faintest understanding of the Game, and there had been talks (whispered, giggled, spoken of in the midst of hedge mazes where breaths and mouths intermingled) that when his father at last retired, he would only live by the whim of his father’s  many allies. His head was too easily clouded with thoughts of heroism, fanciful tales that only ever came to fulfillment upon the pages of a book. Eunwoo thought him pitiful, in a way. Tiring, in another.</p>
<p>He inclined his head at Vivienne’s comment. “I thought a delicate glory best suited the landscape,” he said. “But I will readily admit that I yet lack in aesthetics; I shall send my regrets to the lord and his son.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps a bottle of wine,” Vivienne added, ever helpful to her favorite protégé. “Something Antivan, darling. I shall ask Bastien what he recommends.”</p>
<p>As far as rebukes went, it was a gentle reprimand. Eunwoo doubted many would ever think to look deeper into her words. But, though he kept ready command of the smile sewn upon his mouth, Eunwoo felt the insidious prick of his heritage. That he was not a full-blooded human but rather the consequence of a whirlwind romance between a Dalish woman and noble man was a closely-guarded secret he had only spilled to Vivienne in a moment of weakness.</p>
<p>To her credit, she had never thought to disparage him or his lesser bloodline. But he was certain that she secretly worried, as he did, that he might one day offer his weakness to the wrong person, and as he fell from grace (because elves were <em>never</em> in vogue) so too would she, dragged down by their relationship as master and apprentice.</p>
<p>He was certain that there had been no shift of his expression, no tension settled into the line of his shoulders – yet Vivienne still smiled wider and looked toward the door. Her voice was politely apologetic as she said, “This has been a wonderful conversation, my dear, but I am afraid I have other business to attend to.” Her fan fluttered in her hand, a small <em>come here</em> embedded in the motion. “Would you be so kind as to escort me out the door? I would love to stay longer but I am <em>dreadfully</em> busy.”</p>
<p>“That is regretful,” Eunwoo said. “We really must see about arranging a get-together; it has been so long since we were able to sit and chat as friends.” He escorted her to the door, each step perfectly placed and his arm bent at the elbow that she might hold onto him as a lady attended by a gentleman. He swept her through the door with a small bow, knowing that anything greater might be viewed as excess or, worse, pandering.</p>
<p>Outside his door, she finally snapped her fan shut, once more revealing her mouth. It had lifted into a smile that spoke no deception. Eunwoo accepted it as the faint praise it was and gave one of his own, his mouth like the brush of rose petals as he raised her hand and pressed a promise onto the back of the satin glove she wore. <em>I will not disappoint you</em>.</p>
<p>“Farewell, my darling,” she said. “I do so look forward to seeing you again.”</p>
<p>Eunwoo did not allow his composure to crumple until she was assuredly away, the mild clack of her heels upon the marble flooring withdrawing a welcome relief. He exhaled loudly and almost immediately felt guilt flood him, for he had been taught to never show his feelings, even when alone. <em>Especially</em> when alone. His mouth drew into a grimace; he would have to read and re-read some of his earliest books in manners, for he could not afford to have his mask slip so easily when he finally joined his benefactor at court.</p>
<p>He started back toward his desk with a renewed sense of purpose: he <em>must</em> do better, he <em>must</em> be the best. Vivienne had taught him that composure was power in the Grand Game, and he must be as ice if he were ever to be as successful as her.</p>
<p>That he could not think of what else might draw her free of the Empress’ inner circle, that he could not know what further plans she attended to in Montsimmard, bespoke his lack of education. He would correct this.</p>
<p> Eunwoo sat before Ser Brindamour’s  <em>The Grandest Game: Understanding The Underbelly of the Orlesian Empire </em>and once more set to the task of dismantling it.</p>
<p> </p>
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<p> </p>
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